Cobalt Steel
by CosmicRust
Summary: This wasn't the first time someone with a cobalt paint job had walked into Knock Out's life, and he was really beginning to hate that color now.


Knock Out had never felt his spark flutter. He'd felt it blaze, surge, tremor, and leap on occasion, but it never fluttered. At least, he couldn't remember if it ever had. The sensation was foreign, heavy, and it tickled in a thick, syrupy way.

Like other spark anomalies, this caused static to run up and down his shell and brought his innermost energon to a momentary low boil.

This didn't bother Knock Out too much. As long as he didn't accidentally brush past someone, no one would notice. What bothered him was the effect it had on his EM field.

The thin, almost unnoticeable, layer of radiation was a simple factor of a Cybertronian's life. But, it was generated though one's spark and reacted to anything their spark did. When the life-giving force was under stress or functioning out of the norm, its resulting field grew stronger and others could feel it if they were near. It was almost like an empathetic response.

The first time his spark fluttered, Knock Out had been accompanying Bumblebee on some morning patrols. More and more bots were returning home nearly every day now, and Ultra Magnus had sent the two of them to keep watch.

Bumblebee hadn't made a move towards conversation, and Knock Out was all in for doing it for him. And, as usual, the first thing to pipe from his vocalizer was a complaint.

"Why did Magnus have to send us out _this_ early?" He whined. "Who's going to land anywhere at _this_ cycle?"

Bumblebee had tuned him out before his griping had even begun. "I don't know."

Knock Out scoffed. "Such an obedient little soldier, aren't you?" He mocked. "Doesn't it bother you how your new commander treats you like a scout?"

Bumblebee's mirrors shifted in a sort of shrug, but he offered no verbal answer.

Knock Out decided that he wasn't going to get much else out of his comrade.

Ever since Optimus Prime had hurled himself into the Well of All Sparks, there wasn't much talking from anyone. Well, except Knock Out, who wasn't all too keen on their sudden loss for words. Even when newcomers arrived, they seemed to go into silence when they heard of their beloved leader's fate. If you asked Knock Out, and no one did, it was all a little too over dramatic.

Even his new assistant, First Aid, was too quiet. He was friendlier, much younger, and was far more pleasant than Ratchet. But, he was only another addition to the silent choir of somber faces. Plus, he wasn't nearly as skilled with a buffer as Breakdown had been.

The two sports cars continued on without a word. Knock Out let Bumblebee take the lead as he let himself slow down. It was too early for this. He was about to rest his sight sensors for a little bit when something shot past him. The vehicle was going full speed and their engine alerted Knock Out with start. He watched as Arcee whizzed in front of them, paying them no mind.

Being passed stirred a bit of agitation in the ex-Decepticon. He hadn't chosen an aerodynamic alt. mode only to keep up his image. He had bothered Bumblebee and Smokescreen several times to race him. Though Smokescreen occasionally agreed, it wasn't enough to kill Knock Out's boredom.

He wondered why Arcee was out this early. Maybe, if he caught up with her, she might tell him. That sounded like a good enough excuse to go after her, so he revved his engines and took off, mounting speed as he neared the blue motorbike. He didn't hear Bumblebee protest.

Knock Out gained on Arcee, who had slowed down a few notches and was almost at a leisurely speed. Just as Knock Out was able to pull up beside her, she sped up, leaving him in her dust.

Teasing him, eh? Knock Out felt competitive excitement boil inside him. He gunned his engines, taking the lead. Arcee made a sudden, sharp right turn that Knock Out almost didn't see. He hastily swerved in the same direction.

The femme had dashed from the open, flat area she had previously been and into a more urban area, burying herself in the winding, multilayered streets. Knock Out took up another path running below hers. He raced just below her until her road veered off in another direction. Knock Out screeched to a halt, spun around, and went back the way he came. He knew an entrance ramp where he could head her off. He arrived at the ramp to see that the road above it had crumbled away and covered his ramp in rubble. Knock Out hated dead ends. He worked himself back into robot mode and looked up.

Arcee was perched on the edge of the street above, still in vehicle mode. She suddenly disappeared in reverse. Knock Out smirked. Surely she wasn't going to try and make that jump. He didn't have much time to react as Arcee bolted forward off the road and into the air. Knock Out climbed the crumbled street before him and watched his teammate sail across the gaping break. In mid air she transformed, legs out in front of her. She stuck the landing and straightened out.

Knock Out had always been one to admire grace, and Arcee was no exception. Save for the slightly wobbly landing, her jump had been precise and slick.

Then he felt it. Something stirred deep in his spark that surfaced in a way that made Knock Out's throat burn, his legs feel a little numb, and caused a lazy smile to spread across his face. The sensation made him feel happy, but it quickly turned into embarrassment as Arcee peered over the edge above to see him. She disappeared again and Knock Out rubbed his head a little. Regaining his regular composure, he jumped down from the pile of scrap, quickly went into vehicle mode, and drove off. Something told him that he had obviously lost that race.

He had headed back to the new, in progress, base he now shared with bots whom had previously been his enemies. He fought to keep his EM field under control as he made his way back to his quarters. He made sure to walk on the opposite side of the corridors as he passed a few of his colleagues. He opened the door to the med bay, ducked inside, shut it, and relaxed. He never noticed how hard it was to keep his field unnoticeable when his spark was acting up.

First Aid's shoulders went up in alert and turned to see the CMO. Knock Out hadn't even noticed that he was there.

"Whoa, I, uh…appreciate the sentiment, Knock Out, but I-"

Knock Out folded his arms self-consciously and wrestled his field down. "What? That's not…what makes you think…!?"

First Aid's shoulders went neutral again. He almost looked relieved that the warm radiation wasn't directed towards him.

Knock Out had never really liked how his assistant had no actual face. All he had was a visor and a mouth guard on his profile, not to mention those weird looking plates on either side of his helm. He was the perfect example of predesignated function. He looked just as rounded, boxy, and soft as most medics did.

Aid's visor flickered in a sort of smile. "Anything happen back there-"

"No!" Knock Out answered quickly. "It's just…nothing! It's nothing." He struggled to regain his usual, haughty, posture.

"Doesn't sound like 'nothing'," Aid replied, his voice having a mockingly patronizing edge. "We wouldn't want our chief medic falling ill, would we?"

"I'm not ill," Knock Out snapped. His EM was replaced with an irritable air as he pushed past First Aid. First Aid shrugged and went back to is own business.

Knock Out set himself in front of his medical tools, arranging them in a needlessly meticulous order. He needed something to clear his mind, no matter how ridiculous it was.


End file.
